Either researchers have found that people with tattoos drink more than people without tattoos OR people with tattoos have to be drunk before they agree to participate in studies as opposed to tattoo-less people who get the tiniest buzz going and suddenly they're blowing into every breathalyzer they meet? (The study does not ask the most important question, however: what kind of tattoos are we talking about?)
The most wonderful time of the year is upon us here in Germany: Oktoberfest, which in spite of its name actually starts in the middle of September, and is tragically already halfway over.
If you're in the U.S., there are plenty of Oktoberfest celebrations all around, and I hear that the Kitchener-Waterloo Oktoberfest in Canada is something to behold, but I humbly submit that if you haven't seen the real deal in Munich, you ain't seen nothin'.
Here's the part that wasn't clear to me before I went to Oktoberfest for the first time in 2006: It isn't just 14 giant beer tents and all the placemat-sized pretzels you can [...]
On the first day, you make the decision. “I’m going to drink more water,” you say. “Eight glasses a day, to start with. Maybe more.” Suddenly you realize the break room has gone silent. The sun sinks below the horizon as a sign of respect. You begin right away, finishing the cup of water already in your hand.
The next morning, you open your eyes after eight uninterrupted hours of deep sleep. The sun spills through the window onto the fresh white linens on your bed, and a glass of water sits on your nightstand, sparkling in the morning light. You drink it and realize that you no [...]
"One time when I was 17, I fell asleep on [a friend's] couch, drunk, in my boxers. When he knocked on the window, I jumped out of the window, went to this house party already drunk, and somehow cut my foot on something. I was bleeding all over this person's house, in my boxers, dick hanging out every-[bleeping]-where. At a house party. In the middle of the winter. In my underwear." —Creative Loafing oddly ended a list of Yelawolf's top five Atlanta hangouts with this glorious tale that proves one person's dream is another person's nightmare.
The night was going excellently. I was at one of my favorite bars, I had an absolute wrecking ball of a Long Island Iced Tea in my hand, and my best friend and I kept yelling "Rusty Cartwright's here!" at each other because he was and we were (perhaps a bit too) delighted by his presence.
Then A* came up to me. His impressive height was only emphasized by his spiky hair, which I kept wondering about. Did he wash it before he went to sleep at night? He didn't look like the type. Wouldn't his pillowcase get gel all over it? Pressing questions.
Within the first minutes [...]
…Rainbow Cake Jelly Shots! "First there was the cake, then the dessert." is my tagline for these. Are they not adorable? Think of the infinite colorways your little cousins can get accidentally drunk at holiday parties this year. This recipe calls for "cake flavored vodka" which I can never find even though I try so hard. Then it says we can substitute with "whipped cream flavor vodka" (get to the point!) and then, finally, "vanilla". I'm going with regular vodka and regular vanilla, probably.
Here is the tale of the race to the South Pole that happened 100 years ago this month. You can't even blame these folks for ripping off "Drunk History" because they made this thing in Antarctica because they live in Antarctica. Can you imagine how bored you must get? (May I suggest new chapters of "Trapped in the Closet" next?) "Now fast forward, and it's not that fast of a forward" is definitely going into my storytelling phrase bag. [Thanks, Shayla!]
It's not only OK now to for you to admit you love gross sweet Riesling, but if you don't start buying tons of it, it's going away forever. (Don't let the door hit you in the ass, disgusting, cheap tasting, opposite-of-delicious, sweet Riesling!)
The six flights of stairs leading down, and presumably back up out of this smoker(fire)-friendly bar designed by the evermore Lynchian David Lynch might scare some, but look at all that shiny gold!